


Commander's New Clothes

by thedarksidestories



Category: Kylo Ren - Fandom, Star Wars, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Clothes, Emo Kylo Ren, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Forehead Kisses, Forgiveness, Gentleness, Kylo Ren - Freeform, Love, Lovers, Other, Resistance, Seamstress, Sewing, Soft Kylo Ren, Star Wars - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24608776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarksidestories/pseuds/thedarksidestories
Summary: After her brother goes off to join the Resistance, and her mother strangely dissapears, a seamstress finds herself face to face with Kylo Ren. She convinces him to let her village survive, at the cost of becoming a supplier for the First Order.What's underneath the garments and mask? What happens when ugly truths are brought to light, when old clothes are shed for new?**New chapters weekly***
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Original Female Character(s), Kylo Ren/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	1. A Rock

My life was saved by needle and thread. By what I could create with my own two hands. By the way my calloused fingers could weave a needle through fabric. By what my mother taught me.  
  
When I was younger, it was just me, my brother Aloysius, and my mother. My father had gone off to fight with the Resistance when I was young. I can only remember his face when I’m dreaming. My mother was responsible for raising my brother and I, two kids so full of energy we could have defeated the First Order just by annoying them to death. Aloysius (we called him Aloy), was only a year older than me. My mother was hopeful that he could protect me, being my older brother and all. But I was the one who took care of him.

While my brother would play with the few other boys in our village, my mother kept me inside and taught me how to bandage wounds, cook meals out of practically nothing, and, most importantly, sew.

“Why does Aloy get to play and not me?” I remember pouting to her one particularly hot afternoon. I wanted nothing more than to feel the cool breeze on my face, not to be cramped inside the stuffy one room hut we called a home.

“Aloysius will help in other ways,” she said. This was always her reasoning. That Aloy was needed for the elusive “something else”.

“I need you for something special. I need you to be like a rock.”

I stifled a laugh. “A rock? You need me to be lumpy and ugly and dirty?”

“No,” she said gently. “I need you to be strong. I need you to build great things. I need you to be sturdy. I need you to weather the storm and protect others.”

I gave her a blank expression.

“One day you will understand,” she reassured, tucking my hair behind my ears and cupping my chin, as she often did.

I learned to stop questioning why Aloy got out of doing the practical work. My mother was gentle, but stubborn. She knew how to stand her ground, and she didn’t let anyone walk over her or tell her what to do. 

I hated cooking, and I couldn’t stand the sight of blood. But I eventually fell in love with sewing.

My mom said I was a born prodigy. I think she was just being nice because, truthfully, I was terrible at first. I remember my brother ripping his pants after playing outside one day. I had asked my mom if I could try to fix them, and surprisingly, she let me. I pricked my fingers three times trying to navigate the needle, and when I was done, there were zig zag stitches all over his pants. He never complained though. I think he felt bad that I could never go play with him.

When I improved, my mom let me help with the sewing, tailoring, and garment making that brought the little money in that kept us all alive. Our village was pretty poor, but my mother’s prices were criminally low, and everyone liked her well enough. She was known to make free blankets and scarves in the winter for those who couldn’t afford it. Despite our financial situation, we made some beautiful outfits. We got fabrics from scavenging and bartering. My mother could make a wedding dress out of old tarp if she wanted, and it would be stunning.

It was no glamorous life, but I didn’t mind it. I didn’t really have friends, but I found the company of my mother and Aloy to be plenty, and enjoyed chatting with the other villagers as I measured their bodies and carefully stitched together their clothes. I loved going to the markets during sunny days and standing in the center of it all, counting how many pieces of clothing I could see on other people that I had made. As I got older, the numbers went up and up. I felt like an important member of the village. Maybe that’s what my mother had meant. Like a rock.

One evening when we were older, Aloy and I finally found out what “something else” he was meant to do. Those hot afternoons running around with the boys were to make him strong. My mother pulled both of us close to her side after dinner. It was strange for her to hold us this way, given that we were now adults.

“Do you remember when your father left?” she asked us.

We both stared at each other silently and then looked at our mother. A tear had escaped from her eyelids and was running down her cheek, leaving a clean trail in the dirt on her face.

“Your father was a brave man,” she said, choking down her tears. “He went to fight terrible people. He gave his life to protect ours.”

Aloy and I looked at each other again. We weren’t sure why she was talking about this now.

“This war has gone on for many years now,” she said, trying to gather her composure, “and we are still far from victory.”

“But it can be won,” she stated after a moment.

She turned her head to Aloy and kissed his forehead.

“My wonderful boy,” she whispered. “I would never make you do anything you didn’t want to.” She took a moment to take a deep breath. “But the Resistance needs more brave people. People like your father. And if you want, I think you’re finally ready.”

I pulled away from her arms and sprang up.

“Are you serious?” I spat down at her. “All this time, you kept me inside like some poor weakling child, just so you could send him off to….to…” I trailed off. I couldn’t bring myself to say it.

“You think I’ll die,” Aloy said in an emotionless tone, staring at the ground.

My mother now got to her feet. She looked at me. “I never meant to shelter you. I could see in your eyes from a young age that you were meant to be a leader. To look after others. You were meant to be a rock for-“

“I don’t care about the stupid rock!” I shouted. “You want to send Aloy, my only friend, the only friend YOU ever let me have, away to fight. And you want to trap me HERE.”

My brother took my hand. “Listen,” he said. I opened my mouth to fight, but he squeezed my hand tighter.

“You were the one who always protected me, whether you knew it or not. You made it possible for me to go out and experience life as a kid. Look around us. You’ve clothed nearly everyone here. You’ve been a warrior this whole time, whether you see it or not.”

He bowed his head.

“I think it’s my turn,” he whispered.

I wanted to fight with him so bad, to tell him to stay, to MAKE him stay. But when he looked back up and into my eyes, I could see how badly he needed this. He really meant what he said. He felt like he hadn’t done enough. And with the Resistance badly in need of more fighters, we all knew what had to be done.

My brother was gone a week later. I never really understood how it all happened. The Resistance network was intricate and secretive. I didn’t know how one would go about contacting them or joining them. It was how they stayed hidden. Stayed safe. And that made me feel at least a tiny bit better about my brother going. If I had no clue where he was, maybe the First Order wouldn’t either.

My mother was strong, for a few days. And then she began to crumble. The terror of losing her only son began to eat her up inside. I had to take care of all of the day-to-day tasks, from the sewing to the cooking and cleaning. My mother who was always so strong became weaker than an infant. I never quite understood how it happened. She was the one who suggested he go. She was the one who had basically prepared to send him to do this for his entire life. I wonder if she regretted it.

And then a week after my brother was gone, so was my mother. She wasn’t dead, at least I didn’t think so. Just…gone. Vanished into thin air it seemed. I remember that morning so well. I had made her breakfast, scraped together ingredients needed to make her something with at least a little bit of flavor. I had built a fire outside of our hut and cooked it out there while she slept. I had trailed off for just a moment, and when I came back and walked inside with her food, she was gone.

I searched everywhere. I ran to the village center and asked everyone I saw if they knew where she was. None of them did.

After tiring myself out, I went home and passed out almost immediately, hoping she would be home when I woke up, but having the sinking feeling of knowing the truth; that she wouldn’t. 

Thirty days went by that I spent all on my own. All alone, curled up in the small hut, waiting for her to come back. Waiting for anything. I didn’t take in any clothes for those 30 days. Barely made enough food for me to survive, only left when I had to go to the bathroom.

Those days nearly destroyed me. I thought that my life would forever be like that. 30 days felt like an eternity and I was convinced I would live out the rest of my sad life shut up in that hut full of memories that clenched at my heart.

But then day 31 came. After spending those nights thinking that nothing would ever change, everything did all at once.

On day 31, someone entered my life and turned my entire world upside down.

On day 31, Kylo Ren arrived.


	2. There is Much to be Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren is here. And he wants answers....
> 
> Time to make a deal with the devil.

I jumped awake at the sound of a blaster being shot and someone screaming. I bolted out of my hut and saw a giant black ship in the distance and a sea of white pouring out of it. And despite knowing exactly what they were, I began running toward it.

I stood at the back of the crowd and watched as the stormtroopers assembled into rows before us. I couldn’t even count how many there were. My eyes wandered over the crowd of them, their white uniforms glistening, brand new and ready to be christened with blood.

After a while, the stormtroopers split in the middle and made a walkway between them. The crowd of my people went silent, frozen in fear for whatever was to come next.

Smoke began to pour out of the ship. When it cleared, we saw him. A large figure, head to toe in black, a black hood pulled over his head and a black mask. He took in the crowd of us. He slowly descended the ramp from the ship and walked down the path the stormtroopers had made for him.

I had only heard of him a few times before. A terrifying man behind a sea of black fabric and a mask. Kylo Ren, commander of the First Order.

“I’ll make this simple,” came the modulated voice, words clipped and full of anger. He began to weave his way through the crowd, looking us up and down, clearly trying to instill fear in us. It was working.

“We know you’ve had luck contacting the Resistance.” He stopped directly in front of me. I searched his mask for some human feature and then quickly looked down. It was like staring into a black hole.

“We know that you’ve aided them,” he said, still standing directly in front of me. “And now you’ll tell us everything you know.”

I titled my head up ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of him. He looked me up and down once more and began his slow pace around us.

“Well,” he said, and then loudly, “I’m waiting.”

The silent crowd grew even more silent, not even the sound of breathing or the ruffling of clothing filled the air around us.

“Speak!” he barked and we all jumped back.

The silence continued. I knew that if no one said anything soon, things would only get worse.

“We know nothing,” I said quietly. For a moment, I thought he didn’t hear me. But then he began to take those long, slow strides toward me.

He got so close to me I could touch his face if I wanted. If he even had a face. I wasn’t convinced he was anything more than a machine, made for nothing but evil.

“Speak up, girl,” he said, looking down at me. I thought I was tall, but he was absolutely towering. Between that and the way he called me “girl”, I felt like a helpless child. 

“We don’t know anything,” I said, a little louder. I kept my head down. “We seldom get visitors here.

“I see why,” he said harshly, looking around. In a quick blur, his black ropes whipped around and he yielded a red lightsaber. It was brighter than even the sun, and had two smaller blades coming out of the side near the handle.

The crowd shrieked in fear and dropped to the ground, terrified. I don’t know what made me feel so brave, but I was the only one who remained standing.

“You’re a liar,” he growled at me.

“I-“ I began, until my bottom teeth knocked into my upper and my face shot up to meet his gaze.

His hand was in front of my face, as if he had grabbed my chin and pulled my face up without even touching me.

“I won’t sit here and listen to your lies!” he yelled. He turned out to face the crowd.

“Where are they?!” he boomed. The voice modulator began to crackle from the intensity and volume of his voice. The crowd remained silent.

“If you won’t comply,” he sneered, turning back to me, “We have other ways of getting what we want. In the meantime….”

He trailed off and turned towards the stormtroopers.

“It’s a waste of time to keep them all alive.”

Panic washed over me and I felt my stomach drop. The stormtroopers grasped the blasters from their side and in sync, as if by programming, they aimed at the crowd of my people.

The cries from the crowd were loud now, the silence now shattered, the air full of families pleading for their lives.

I had never seen such ruthlessness before. This is what my brother was fighting.

This is what my father had died for.

I refused to die at the hands of this, too.

“Stop!” I yelled, surprising myself at how loud it was.

Kylo Ren whipped his head towards me and was in front of me with only a couple of long strides.

“If you let us live,” I began, searching for the courage (and the right words), “we could be of good use to you.”

He took a step closer to me and I sucked in what little air I could.

He didn’t say anything. So I continued.

“We’re each skilled at something. That’s how we survive around here.”

I pointed at a woman and her family in the crowd.

“They build. Houses and structures.”

I pointed to another family.

“And they harvest and slaughter the little food we have around here.”

I took a moment to try and gauge his reaction. He gave me nothing.

“And I sew.”

I noticed a jagged rip on the side of his robes near his boots.

“Your garments are torn,” I said, pointing. “I can fix them.”

He cocked his head to the side, as if he didn’t believe me. I was afraid he might think I was just trying to bide time. Maybe I was. 

“If you let us live,” I said again, “we can supply you. You and your army.”

I drew in a breath to try and give myself some confidence.

“If you kill us now, you’re wasting an opportunity to gain essential things you need. What kind of leader would that make you?”

I immediately regretted adding that last part. I didn’t know what had come over me. Anger, frustration. Dumb courage or pride.

He whipped out his lightsaber in a flash and I winced. I began to step backward, but he gripped my wrist tightly as he yanked me towards him.

With my arm in one hand and the lightsaber in the other, he slowly lowered the saber down to my skin. I felt the heat burning my flesh, even though it wasn’t touching my arm.

He tapped it against my arm and I screamed, my eyes shut tight. My knees buckled and I tried to fall to the ground, but he held me there. When I opened my eyes again, the lightsaber was put away, back in its hilt. It had only touched my skin for a brief moment, but I could smell the burning fabric and flesh on my arm. My vision became blurry from the pain and my hot tears hit the sand beneath me.

“If you are to live, you will at least show me some respect.”

He threw my arm down and I fell into the hot sand. I held my arm close to my chest, not daring to look at it.

He walked to the front of the crowd, right in front of the stormtroopers. With a quick flick of his wrist, the stormtroopers put their blasters back at their sides.

“As of this moment,” he said, addressing us, “you live only to serve the First Order. You will be under complete occupation and you will perform your jobs to the benefit of the First Order alone. You will house us, feed us…” he trailed off and looked over at me. “Clothe us.”

He resumed his gaze to the crowd. “You have me and me alone to thank for your lives.”

We all stayed still and silent, not knowing what to do, terrified that anything we may do or say would upset him or make him change his mind.

“And if the Resistance comes to help you,” he said, with almost a hint of a smile in his voice, “we’ll be here to greet them.”

He turned back to the stormtroopers and began walking toward them. We waited until he and the stormtroopers had retreated back to their ship. We hoped they were leaving, but knew that was not the case. They began unloading and setting up a makeshift base. It was small and wouldn’t house them all. We would be responsible for that. They would take over our lives. 

We stayed on the ground, watching them work. After what felt like hours, Kylo Ren finally addressed us on the ground.

“Go,” he said. “There is much to be done.”

The crowd around me quickly got up and started running towards their homes, desperate to be away from him and the stormtroopers. I was so focused on the pain in my arm that I didn’t realize I was the only one left until I heard loud steps coming toward me.

I looked up to find Kylo Ren standing in front of me, the entire crowd dispersed.

He looked down at me and for a split second, no, less than a split second, I thought, or hoped, he might offer his hand to help me up. But I knew that would never happen.

“I believe a thank you is in order” he said.

I stood slowly, my arm still hugged to my chest. I wanted to fight so badly, but I knew it would only bring trouble.

“Thank you,” I said in a whisper looking at the ground.

“Now go.”

Without looking up at him, I turned and ran. I let the wind whip at me as I ran back to the hut, tears streaking my face, my fists clenched from the pain. I ran until I was home. And as soon as I got there, I fell to the floor and cried.

I cried so loud, howling and laying my forehead on the ground.

I cried until I was hollow.

Before I could even clean my wound, I fell asleep.

And that night I dreamed of my father. And I saw his face. 

And I remembered him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here he is! What a mean guy. 
> 
> Wonder if he's got a soft side...
> 
> ALSO! Longer chapters are coming so don't worry.


	3. A Quick Fix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren has a tear in his robe that needs mending to. 
> 
> There's not time to waste; get to work.

The first ray of sunlight had barely pierced the sky when three stormtroopers filled the hut. I jumped awake to the sounds of their loud footsteps encircling me. 

I wanted to ask why three of them had come to get me. Was I a threat? Did Kylo Ren think that I could do some damage? Was Kylo Ren….afraid of me?

But I knew that asking would bring no good, so I got to my feet as quickly as I could.

“You are to come to the base near the Command Shuttle,” said one of the stormtroopers.

Another stormtrooper continued, “You will meet Commander Ren there to repair his garments.”

“You have 15 minutes,” the third one said.

I wondered what the tight schedule was for. Maybe that’s just how things worked around the First Order. Everyone always hurrying up to wait. To hunt. To attack.

The stormtroopers began to file out of the hut. The last one turned back to me as they were halfway out the door.

“You have been bestowed a great honor. One you certainly don’t deserve.”

They slammed the flimsy door shut behind them.

I took a moment to consider what they said and then let out a wheezing laugh. It was the first time I had laughed in a long time. A great honor? These stormtroopers acted like Kylo Ren was their savior. Like he belonged with the Gods or something. 

I was surprised any of the stormtroopers even _liked_ him. 

Also, how great is Kylo Ren that no one in his fancy First Order world could do something as simple as repair a torn robe? 

I took a bucket from inside and ran to fill it with cold water. I splashed it on my face, hoping the coolness of it would wake me up. Or temporarily distract me from the panic bubbling in my chest.

By the time I made it to the makeshift base, my face was dirty again, the dirt stuck to my face with sweat. I only let myself worry about this for a moment though. It didn’t matter what I looked like. I wasn’t trying to impress Kylo Ren anyway. At least not with my appearance.

I stood outside a large tent for what seemed like an eternity. I wasn’t sure what to do or where to go. Was I just supposed to walk in? What if I did and I got in trouble? There’s no handbook that comes with being occupied by the First Order. No guide on how to not piss off Kylo Ren. 

I finally decided that I should just walk in. I was on a tight schedule apparently, _his_ schedule, and I didn’t want to anger him by being late. I slowly pulled back the flap to the tent. I peered through the gap with one eye and found Kylo Ren standing alone in the middle, facing directly at me. Without thinking, I pulled the flap back in place, as if he hadn’t already seen me. I should have just walked in, but something about seeing him stand there like that sent ice through my veins.

“Come in,” I heard the modulated voice say from inside.

I pushed open the flap again and walked inside, my head bowed and my eyes glued to the ground. I was more scared than I would have liked to admit.

“You’re late,” he said, accusatorily. 

My head snapped up.

“I was here,” I said, in a tone I meant to be defensive, but came across as slightly whiny. 

He took a step toward me.

“I must have eyes on you,” he said. “If I didn’t see you, you weren’t here.”

“Can you even see out of that mask?” I said under my breath. I hated how sometimes I was so full of fear and at others, I had no restraint. 

He cocked his head to the side.

“How’s your arm feeling?” he said in a mockingly sweet tone. 

He didn’t actually care to know. He just wanted to remind me of the pain he was capable of. 

I didn’t dare try to quip back at him. 

“If you’d like,” I said, swallowing back the anger I felt, “I can get started on fixing your robe.” 

“Considering you wouldn’t be useful for anything else, I suppose you should get started on that. Otherwise, you’re wasting my time.”

It’s like he got off on cruelty. 

Hesitantly, I took a step towards him. I didn’t dare look up into his face (or his mask really, it’s not like I could see his face anyway). I sunk to my knees in front of him and examined the tear in the fabric. 

“This should be a quick fix,” I said, pulling the needle and thread out of the small bag I had brought with me. “You can go ahead and remove this now and I’ll fix it.”

“I’ll keep it on and you will fix it right here. Right now.”

I gulped. The thought of being knelt practically at his feet with him standing there, staring down at me work was nauseating. 

“It’s easier if-”  
“I don’t believe I asked what would make it easier.”

I gently touched the fabric and held the tear in my hands. The fabric was coarse and thick. It must be extremely hot, especially in this weather. It wasn’t practical at all. Completely built for dramatic flair, not practicality. 

“It must be hot in this,” I said softly. 

To my surprise, he didn’t say anything. I could hear him breathing, the voice modulator amplifying his breaths. Maybe he hadn’t heard me.

I began working, slower than usual, scared to mess up or, even worse, poke him with the needle. He didn’t say anything, just kept breathing. I only dared to glance up at him once, and to my relief, he wasn’t looking down at me. He looked like he must be gazing straight ahead (if I had to guess, I couldn’t see his eyes though). He fists were balled shut, like he was trying to hold in anger.

I didn’t care. I didn’t care about him or how he felt or why he was mad. I didn’t care. 

I didn’t care, right?

But before I had the time to actually use my brain, I heard myself ask, “Are you alright?”

He looked down at me, but didn’t say anything. 

Usually he was quicker than this. I figured he’d have some sort of biting remark in his arsenal ready to go. 

Had I, small, useless me, caught Kylo Ren off guard?

Had I left him speechless? 

He never did respond, just resumed his gaze straight ahead. 

After I was finally finished, I stood and distanced myself from him. My knees ached from not standing in so long. A sewing repair of that nature had _never_ taken me that long before.

“I’m finished,” I said, as if it wasn’t completely obvious. “I’ll be going.”

I turned to go but felt a hand go to my shoulder. It wasn’t a tight grip, but rather gentle, just like he was trying to get my attention.

It caught me completely off guard and I jumped. 

After I regained my composure, I turned back to him.

“It is hot,” he said.

I felt all of the blood drain from my face. _What_ was hot? I couldn’t tell where the conversation was going or what he meant.

He must have sensed my unease. “These clothes. A bit impractical for the weather here, yes?”

I finally remembered what I had said earlier and I let go of a breath. 

So he did hear me. But how did he know I thought it was impractical? I hadn’t said that out loud...

My mind was racing.

“I could, uh, if you want, I-” I babbled on like an idiot. 

“Did you make that yourself?” he said cutting me off and gesturing towards me.

I looked down at myself. He meant my clothes. 

I held the fabric of my outfit in my hands and rubbed it between my fingers. They were my mother’s clothes. It was the nicest outfit she had. She had spent days working on it, longer than she did any other garments. It was the one luxury she had ever given herself. The one self indulgent thing she had done in her life.

Why had I worn this today?

Maybe I _was_ trying to impress Kylo Ren.

I was disappointed in myself for that.

“No,” I said softly, somehow finding the courage to look at his mask. “My mother made this.”

“It’s good,” he said.

_Excuse me???_

I was so stunned that I think my jaw dropped for a moment. I tried to compose myself, to hide the utter shock on my face. Was that a _compliment_? 

“Perhaps she should be here helping me instead.”

And there it was.

I felt the anger welling up in me. His emotions and reactions were so chaotic, so quickly changing from one moment to the next. It was infuriating.

“Well she’s gone,” I snapped, not caring how defiant I sounded. “So you’re stuck with me.”

He took a step towards me and I clenched my teeth, keeping my gaze directly on him and refusing to show the fear I felt inside. 

And then he stepped away. And he waited.

What was he doing? Was I free to go finally?

I figured that was my cue to leave, so I turned to go. And I heard him clear his throat. It sounded like a strange crackle through the modulator.

I turned back to him and raised an eyebrow.I was getting bolder around him already. I’d need to be careful of that.

“I suppose you’ll need measurements,” he said, still waiting for something.

“For….” I trailed off, prompting him to fill me in on whatever was going through his head.

“The new clothes you’ll make me,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

I stared at him dumbly. He just insulted me and now he wanted me to make him an _entire new outfit?_

Who was I that I should get to clothe the commander of the First Order?

And who was I that I even let myself consider that, let myself think for a split second, that clothing a monster should be some sort of _honor_? And one that I wasn’t worthy of?

“My other supplies are back home,” I said holding up my small bag. “I only brought my needle and thread. I could come back tomo-”

He held up a hand to stop me. He walked past me and opened the flap to the tent.

“Let’s go,” he said and stepped outside. 

_Go where?_ I thought to myself.

And then it hit me. 

Kylo Ren wanted me to lead him...to my house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay now we're getting into more Kylo moments. New chapters will come out every Wednesday. We are so excited for you guys to see Chapter 4...
> 
> This is definitely a slow burn type story but we promise it'll pick up. 
> 
> Thank's for reading! <3


	4. Hardly Necessary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being THIS close to Kylo Ren is....
> 
> unnerving to say the least. 
> 
> How will a one on one measurement session at home go?

Only three people had ever been inside my home, four if I counted my father. Aloy and I never had friends over. I didn’t have any friends I would have liked to invite over anyway, and I think Aloy was always a little embarrassed about where we lived, even though no one in the entire village exactly lived a life of glamour. My mother and I always worked with clients outside of the house, sometimes in a makeshift tent Aloy would set up, most of the time in the homes of the clients themselves. Most people considered it as a perk; having a service come to their house. They were happy, and we didn’t have to embarrass ourselves. A win-win.

The situation of Kylo Ren though? There couldn’t possibly be a win-win in that. I could have told him no. But he would be angry. Or I could have done as he said. And then he would get a glimpse into my actual life. I would lose control over how I wanted to display myself. 

Having him get a peak into who I actually was? A literal nightmare to imagine. He already had the power to do so much damage, and he barely knew me. 

Now I had to consider how his arsenal of cruelty would grow as he used all of the ugly parts of my life against me.

And there were plenty of ugly parts. Where I lived. The fact that my father was dead. And my mother was gone. 

How would I explain where my brother was?

I supposed he didn’t have to know about Aloy. Hopefully nothing in the house would give him away. 

I don’t suppose he’d patiently wait outside while I hid any incriminating evidence.

_Oh one moment Commander! I need to make my wonderful home perfect for you!_

Imagine that. 

We began walking towards the hut, him walking in front of me as if he were the one leading me and not the other way around. After a few moments, he stopped.

I wanted to say something snarky, use this tiny bit of power I had against him. He didn’t know where we were going. And I did.

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Instead, I swallowed my pride and took a few steps so that I was in front of him. And I kept walking. 

I didn’t turn back to make sure he was following. I don’t think he could move quietly if he tried. Another downfall of his current attire; it wasn’t made for stealth at all.

Just loud and intimidating. His outer appearance was made purely to instil fear in others. 

How charming.

The thought popped into my mind that I was doing a good deed in disguise. By giving him new garments, perhaps I could make him a little less terrifying. 

But at the cost of what? The new outfit would, in theory, be more comfortable. More stealthy. 

More practical. 

More practical for committing terrible deeds. Deeds I didn’t want to think about. Actions and blood I didn’t want to have on my hands. 

I supposed whatever I created for him wouldn’t render me responsible for his actions. It may make it easier for him to move, easier for him in combat. But it couldn’t control his conscience.

If he even _had_ a conscience. 

After walking in silence, and panic, we finally arrived outside of the hut. I walked up to the door (if you could even call it that) and turned to face him. 

I jumped back and hit the flimsy door behind me so hard it flew open. He had been standing so close to me, I practically bumped into his chest when I had turned to him.

I stumbled backwards into the hut and fell to the floor. What a perfect way to welcome the most terrifying man in the Galaxy into my home. 

He walked in and stepped right over me. What a gentleman. I began to push myself up to a seated position and froze when I registered what he was doing.

He was standing over me, looking down with his arm extended. He was reaching out his hand to me.

Kylo Ren was holding out his hand to me. To _help_ me. 

Was this some sort of trick? What was he playing here? Was he going to lift me up just to throw me back down?

I started to reach my hand towards his. Despite my best efforts, my hand was trembling.

Before I could pull it away, he bent down to close the distance and grasped my hand.

The leather of his glove was cool and stiff. I was surprised at how cold it was, especially given the temperature of the air all around us. 

In a swift motion, he pulled me to my feet, so quickly it left me feeling almost a little bit dizzy. 

Before he let my hand go, I could have sworn he gave it a little squeeze. 

My brain had to have been playing tricks on me. There’s no reason he would show any hint of affection, right?

Although he had just helped me up and that seemed implausible until it actually happened. 

If Kylo Ren of the First Order could give me his hand, perhaps anything was possible. 

After dropping my hand, he began to walk around, examining my _very_ humble abode. 

There wasn’t all that much to look at really. Some logs for a fire, a rusty pot dangling over it. In the corner there was padding and a blanket (My mother had cleared Aloy’s sleeping space when he left, and after the first week of my mother being gone, I pushed her padding and blankets into the pile of my own). The somewhat remarkable thing in the hut was the work desk my brother had made for us a few years ago. All of our sewing supplies lay scattered on it; fabric, scissors, pins, and needles. I hadn’t bothered organizing it with my mother gone. I hadn’t really bothered doing _anything_ during those days. 

The empty days before all of…

Kylo Ren walked over to the desk and began messing with various objects. At one point, to my utter amusement, he had a pin stick to one of his gloves. And because the gloves were so absurdly thick and stiff, he couldn’t grip the pin with his other hand to pull it off. 

I began to chuckle and quickly clapped my hand over my mouth, hoping he hadn’t seen me enjoying this moment. 

Instead of asking me for help and giving me the gratification of that, he slipped a finger from his free hand under the glove with the pin and pried it off, exposing his bare hand.

His skin. He had skin. 

Why was I so surprised?

I noticed bits of dirt under his nails. Considering he wore gloves so often, his nails should be immaculately clean. 

The skin of his hands looked rough and calloused. Like mine. 

Who would’ve thought we could ever have something in common?

He turned to face me and caught me staring. If he were embarrassed at all, he didn’t show it.

Not like he really could under the mask.

Instead of trying to cover his hand quickly, he removed his other glove. It was jarring, to see him standing there in everything but gloves. Head to toe in black, except for his hands. It was an odd sight. 

I walked over to the desk and shoved things aside until I found the tape measure. I found an old sheet of paper with measurements scribbled on one side. I grabbed that and a pencil.

“Are you ready?” I asked.

He just stood there. I hated hearing his breathing through the modulator. 

“I wouldn’t want to waste your time,” I added. I meant this somewhat sincerely, but feared it came across as completely sarcastic. 

“No, you wouldn’t,” he said, his words clipped. 

I hadn’t had time to even begin to envision what I was going to be creating for him. Everything had happened so quickly. I needed time alone to process everything, to try and pull the pieces of my brain back together. 

My mother had taught me that making small talk while taking measurements was always best. It puts you and the client at ease and makes the experience more enjoyable.

There was hardly anything enjoyable about _this_ situation. And small talk would most likely just make things worse.

“Hold your arms out,” I said.

It took him a moment to register what I had said. I considered this, and then came to the conclusion that he wasn’t used to taking orders, even simple ones, from anyone. Thankfully, he didn’t say anything, just stuck his arms out to the side.

The sight of his bare hands was still a bit ridiculous. But as weird as it was, it was also comforting to see this small piece of humanity. 

I held the tape measure in my right hand and reached around his waist with my left hand. His frame was so large I was practically hugging him as I found the end of the tape measure and connected the two pieces in the front. 

My hands were shaking. I couldn’t concentrate on getting the number, not with my head under his chin. Not with the warmth radiating off of his body. Not with that _breathing_. 

Being this close to him was….unnerving. It stirred something inside me that I couldn’t quite put a name on. It was uncomfortable but...I didn’t _hate_ it. He smelled nice. It was a faint woodsy smell. Clean.

_What was happening to me??_

I tried to refocus. Just get the number and move on.

“Did they not teach you how to read numbers on this planet?” he asked. It made me jump. 

I made the mistake of peering up at him. The darkness of his mask was thick, but I could have sworn I caught the slightest hint of eyes…

“Well?” he questioned, softer this time. The modulator was even worse when he spoke quietly.

I ignored him and peaked down at the tape measure. It didn’t need to be precise, I could always take it in later. I let go of the side in my left hand and stepped back quickly, scrambling to find the paper and write down the measurement before I forgot. 

I was hoping it would get easier the more measurements I took. It didn’t. My fingers lightly brushing the fabric on his body, the closeness of it all...it was terrifying. It was...almost intoxicating, in a dizzying, sickening way. 

Each new angle was….uncomfortable. But for some reason, as much as I hated it, _I didn’t_. 

He didn’t say anything the entire time, just silently shifted whenever I told him to move his arms or make any other adjustment. He was letting me do this. Albeit, he wanted something out of me and _that_ is why he was letting me so close. But it still felt vulnerable. I couldn’t stop staring at his bare hands. I wanted to know what the rest of him looked like.

Did I really just admit that? 

I stepped away after the intense minutes I had spent so close to him to review everything I had written down. I had everything I needed for the most part. Except…

“I’ll need you to remove the helmet. Or mask? Whatever it is.”

He stood there and said nothing, cocking his head ever so slightly to the side. 

I gestured my hand out as if to say _go on._

“That’s hardly necessary,” he said in a stiff tone. His bare hands clenched at his sides.

“I need to get measurements for your head and neck,” I explained.

“I’m pretty sure I’m capable of doing that myself,” he said.

I snorted.

“You’re really going to take this tape measure, hide outside, and try to get an accurate measurement yourself?” I asked, testing him. 

His fists clenched tighter. 

“Look,” I said, letting out a sigh. “I’ve seen everything there is to see. My mother and I…” I started, but stopped. My mother…

I hadn’t realized how much I missed her. How _wrong_ all of this felt without her. I felt like I was betraying her, doing this work without her here, Even though it was her that betrayed me.

Maybe she hadn’t. But I had no way of knowing. All I knew was that I was on my own. 

I turned away from him. I needed him to be gone. Gone out of my house, gone off this planet. Gone away from the entire Galaxy so that I could have my family back. 

My mother wasn’t here and when I thought about it, I could trace back everything to being his fault. 

I looked up at the ceiling, trying to keep the tears at bay. 

And then I heard a slight hiss. And a click. I froze for a moment.

I swallowed hard and turned around slowly.

There wasn’t a monster standing in front of me anymore.

There was a man.

With deep brown eyes. A strong nose. Plump lips. 

And his hair…

It took me a moment to put the obvious answer together in my head. 

_This_ was the real Kylo Ren. 

And as evil as he may be he was…

Beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all liked this chapter! Sorry to end it like that but...  
> tune in next week ;)


	5. Lightning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mask is off and...it's certainly not the appearance that was expected.
> 
> Why is he so...ATTRACTIVE.

Kylo Ren was standing unmasked in my home. Never in a million years did I picture this is where I would end up. Making clothes for a ruthless commander of the First Order. 

A ruthless commander that was also, apparently, _very_ attractive. 

I know inner beauty is supposed to count more than external beauty, but damn. 

Even so, no amount of physical perfection could erase the damage he’d done to the Galaxy. To my family…

I needed to say something. But what do you even say in a situation like this?

“You can, uh,” I started, trying to sound casual, “set it on the desk if you want. I’ll clear a spot.”

I scurried to the work table and shoved various fabrics and such to the side to make room for his helmet. Anything to not have to look at his face.

I wish I could ask him to put it back on.

There was a game of tug-of-war happening inside my chest. On one side, I had the part of me who knew what a vile human he was. And the other...well, the other felt something stirring deep within while looking at his face. 

I turned back around and he was still standing in the same spot, helmet tucked under his arm. He looked so...cool. I hated it. 

“If you’re worried about it getting dirty, I assure you this is the cleanest spot in here. I know that’s not saying much considering…” I said as I gestured around the hut. 

He still didn’t say anything. Or move. 

_What was this guy’s deal?_

“Is something wr-”

“How long has your mother been gone?” he asked, cutting me off. 

I was stunned. Not only because he had asked something so personal out of the blue, but also because...his voice was….human.

Without the voice modulator, his voice was actually _soothing_. No wonder he covered it. He wouldn’t be able to scare people as easily without the helmet. 

He wouldn’t be as scary then. 

“I’d rather not talk about-”

“Tell me,” he said as he began taking slow steps toward me. His tone gave nothing away. No motives or intentions. He wasn’t asking to be malicious. But he wasn’t asking out of kindness either. 

“The last time I saw her was about a month ago,” I said.

“She’s alive?” he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

_Oh. Shit._

He had thought I meant she was _dead_ when I had said she was gone. It would’ve been so much safer to keep that narrative going. I couldn’t pinpoint what came over me. What made me not think at all before I spoke. 

I picked up the tape measure and sheet and walked back to the center of the room. 

“If you set the helmet down, I can finish this and get to work.” I said, trying to sound nonchalant. But on the inside, I was in a full blown panic. 

He finally set the helmet down and took his long strides back to me. He was standing closer than I would have liked. 

“You know something,” he said, his tone dark. 

“I really don’t,” I said, daring to meet his gaze. His eyes were a deep brown with flecks of honey. 

I kept my eyes locked on his for a moment, not letting myself back down. I had nothing to be nervous about. Because I had nothing to hide.

I really didn’t know where she was. 

After what seemed like an excruciating amount of time, I broke his gaze and set down the measurement sheet. 

“I’ll just need to measure your neck and head,” I said.

I got on my tiptoes and draped the tape measure around his neck. Closing the gap between us, I stepped forward.

His hair was just long enough to get caught under the tape measure. The part of me I was fighting wanted to reach my hand around and gently pull it out from underneath. 

I exhaled quickly, trying to shake that image from my mind.

Instead, I loosely pulled the end of the tape measure to close the gap. I got the number as quickly as I could. 

I got on my tiptoes again to try and measure the top part of his head, about where a hat would come down to (I snorted at the idea of him wearing a casual hat). I wasn’t quite tall enough to see the numbers clearly when I held the tape measure that high. 

“Can you…” I began, my cheeks flushing.

Without missing a beat, he kneeled down in front of me. 

I felt a flutter in my stomach and quickly chastised myself for it in my head. 

_Shut. Up._

“What was that?” he asked.

_Did I say that out loud? I could have sworn I didn’t…_

I wrapped the tape measure around his head, pulling just a little tighter than I had around his neck (I still had no idea what I was making, but I figured it was best to get all possible measurements needed now to avoid an awkward second measurement session).

My fingers were ever so slightly against his bare skin, the backs of my thumbs resting on his forehead as I read the measurement. 

It felt like I was being struck by lightning. And I couldn’t tell if I enjoyed it or not.

I had never really found anyone in the village super attractive before. I dated one guy when I was 15. He was one of my brother’s friends and he always asked about me. His clothes were always torn and he was always coming to us for repairs. I think he did it on purpose. His parents had more money than we did (lots of people did) and they could afford it. My mother took a liking to him and would sometimes do it for free.

We had kissed once and that was it. He was alright, I suppose. Certainly not ugly. He had a cute boyish charm. 

I never felt “lightning” with him though. I wasn’t even aware that was something you could feel by looking at someone or being within close proximity or touching ever so lightly. 

I wondered what kind of leader Kylo Ren could be if he didn’t wear the mask. Could he lead by charm?

Probably not, considering a majority of his social interactions involved insulting or belittling whoever he was talking to. 

Finally I was finished with the measurements. I wrote down the final number and walked back over to the desk.

“I’ll get started on this immediately,” I said as confidently as I could, even though I was facing away from him.

I heard him stand up and begin to walk up to me. As he got closer, I felt the baby hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I had to stop myself from physically shivering. 

“I think I’ll watch,” he said, his voice dangerously close to my ear. 

I squeezed my hands into fists, digging my nails into the palms of my hands. 

“I assure you, it’ll be quite boring,” I whispered, still facing away from him. “Besides, I work better alone. It’ll be easier-”

“Haven’t I already made it clear? I don’t care what’s easier.”

I wanted to turn around and shove him as far away from me as I could. 

Maybe I should have just let him wipe out our village. 

_No_ , I thought. _I didn’t mean that_. 

If the cost of saving the lives of everyone in the village was me having to deal with this asshole, so be it. Their lives were far more important than my comfort. 

They had families, people they loved. Reasons to keep on living each day.

I wished I did, too.

“Can I at least have tonight to draw up some renderings. Get my ideas together?” I pleaded. I sounded pathetic. Broken. Maybe I was. 

He didn’t say anything for a moment and so I added, “Please?” 

My voice reflected just how exhausted I was. 

He picked up his helmet and I heard him click it back into place. His footsteps retreated away from me. 

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said. The return of the voice modulator startled me.

I heard the door open and slam shut.

And only then did I let myself turn back around. 

I wiped my fingers underneath my eyes. When had I started crying? 

I hated that he got under my skin. And I hated even more that I couldn’t exactly pinpoint _why_. I had already known who he was, what he did, what he was capable of. But why had today pushed me over the edge?

It was seeing the human parts of him that made me so emotional. It was terrifying, to look into the face of a man and realize what he was capable of; what anyone was capable of. A real being lived and breathed under that mask, was responsible for horrendous things. With or without the attire, he was the exact same person. 

But somehow, something tugged at my heartstrings for the man with the deep eyes. The calming voice. The thick, luscious hair. 

So maybe it wasn’t him that I was crying over. Maybe it was this hatred towards myself. Hatred of myself to the core, the parts of me that conducted that lightning I felt today, that I didn’t have any control over. I hated _that_ part of me, and it was exactly that part that I had no ability to change. And that broke my heart. 

I flopped over into the pile of blankets and padding that I called a bed. Hugging an old pillow to my chest, I gave myself permission to break down. 

But I couldn’t. 

It’s like the tears had stopped working. The moment that I was finally _allowed_ to release all of the uncomfortable emotions, I physically couldn’t.

Maybe my body was protecting me. I always felt tired after a good cry, and I had a very important task that would go undone if I fell asleep. 

I scrambled over to the desk and dug out scraps of clean paper. I held the pencil between my teeth and tried to come up with attire that would be suitable for... _him._

I closed my eyes and tried to picture a leader; one that was strong and powerful and swift. All of the things he wanted to be. But I also let myself add _kindness_ to my vision. Something he could certainly work on. 

If that was even a possibility for him. 

I sat like that for hours, closing my eyes trying to conjure up something, then opening them and scribbling something down. I went through sheet after sheet of paper, scratching through things, balling up designs I didn’t like and throwing them across the room. When I thought I was finally on to something, self doubt would creep in and tell me that he would hate it. And him hating it could very well cost me my life; cost everyone in the village their lives. More was riding on this project than I would have liked to admit. 

I must have dozed off at some point, because I startled awake at the lightest tapping on my door. There was no light coming from under the door; it must have still been nighttime, maybe early morning. I pushed all the papers around me to the side and approached the door, hesitantly. I cracked it open slightly and saw….nothing. When I opened it all the way, there was still nothing. Maybe it was just the wind.

As I shut the door and turned to go back to my drawings, I felt something under my foot. I reached down and plucked a slip of paper from the ground. Probably one of my design renderings. 

I tossed it to the side and watched as it slowly fluttered in the air, gliding on it’s way down to the floor. It landed the other side up. And I noticed something.

There wasn’t a drawing on it. There were words. I picked it up and upon close examination made out the three words:

I am okay.

My stomach dropped. This must have been from Aloy. Or my mother. My family was out there, and they hadn’t forgotten me. 

But how had this message gotten to me? Who dropped it off?

I guess the Commander was right to have his suspicions about our village.

It seemed we really _did_ have the Resistance on our side.

On our side. 

And right here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kinda short because life is weird right now but we hope you'll stick with us and see what's in store for next week.
> 
> We think it's about time to get some fluff going...


	6. Pressure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is Kylo Ren....being......nice???

I didn’t get much sleep that night. I sat staring at that note for what felt like hours. I traced my fingers over those three words over and over again. I am okay. I am okay. I am okay. 

It was a reminder that I wasn’t alone in this world. Now instead of just fighting for everyone else, I finally had something personal worth fighting for. 

At some point I must have dozed off. I jumped up as soon as I realized I had fallen asleep and quickly opened the door. The sun still hadn’t risen. I still had time. 

I yawned and rubbed my eyes, wondering where I had left all my sketches. It was hard to tell which ones were the keepers and which ones I had tossed aside as rejects. I picked up one that looked half decent, but still very much unfinished. 

I figured I could make a few sketches and he could pick out which ones he liked best. At first, I thought that it should be all my own work, that I should be able to take pride in the fact that I alone created this. But then I remember what _this_ really was, who this was even for. 

There’s no pride in giving in to the enemy, is there? 

Pride has no place here. Show even a glimpse of it and you put yourself in danger. All of those little moments of defiance, let my pride slip out, are dangerous. I looked down at the burn on my arm. It was big and blistering and infected. I hadn’t been taking care of it and cleaning it out like I should’ve been. It oozed and welded to the fabric of my clothes. It caused me pain when I had to rip my clothing off of it, opening the wound all over again. 

Taking care of myself was so hard. There were so many other things to think and worry about. So many other things were draining me.

The feelings of being alone and abandoned were enough to leave me feeling empty. But with all of those First Order business, I felt completely hollow. 

I tried to let my mind go blank and keep sketching. Stop thinking and being so paranoid about how he would react to these. They were just drawings. Just concepts. Nothing was set in stone yet. 

If I had to redo a sketch, then so be it. Maybe it would buy the village time. 

Was that risk worth it though? Stalling to buy time if it meant potentially pissing Kylo Ren off? 

I kept scribbling until my hand cramped, kept scouring over page after page, putting things together in my mind, tossing more and more into the reject pile and compiling different components I liked together. I would hopefully have at least a few somewhat decent options for him.

He better be grateful for this. He better realize that I sacrificed my entire night to this, that I tore my mind away from thinking about the things that actually mattered to me to focus on him. 

He wouldn’t be grateful though. He was in control. This wasn’t a fair exchange. I had nothing to gain out of this. Only something to keep; my life. 

As soon as the first ray of light crept in under the door, I heard two gentle knocks. For half a second, the hope rose in me that maybe it was another message from the Resistance, or better yet, a person from the Resistance, maybe even my family. 

But then I shoved that hope deep down where it belonged and faced the truth. 

I was surprised he had knocked so gently. Having any sort of courtesy or decency toward me seemed so out of place and unnecessary. And he didn’t seem like one for pleasantries that didn’t provide him with any gain. He was already getting something out of me, the only thing I had to give. What more could he possibly want?

I opened the door and found him standing there, his helmet on the ground and his arms crossed. It was chilly at night and during the mornings before the sun finally rose. I couldn’t believe he had his helmet off. Did he walk all this way without wearing it? Risk others seeing him? Maybe he just took it off when he got to the front door. 

I started dumbly at him. The cold air from outside swirled in and I shivered. 

I stepped to the side, not saying anything, waiting for him to enter. He picked up the helmet and took one long, heavy step and was through the door. He shut it gently behind him.

What was with all the gentleness? 

“You look…” he started, assessing me, “less than presentable.” 

I opened my mouth to say something smart back, but stopped myself. He just gets right to the point, doesn’t he? 

I started to yawn, so I quickly pulled my hand over my mouth to try to hide it.

It didn’t work.

He looked around the hut, taking it it’s messy state. The reject designs strewn across the room. The pillows and blankets spread out. I looked around and felt my stomach drop.

The note. It was under one of the pillows, the corner of the paper barely poking out. 

I said a silent prayer that he wouldn’t find it. Please don’t let him find it.

Instead, he returned his gaze to me. Every moment with his eyes on me felt like some sort of inspection; one that I was always failing. His eyes landed on one spot and I followed his gaze. He was looking at the burn.

An emotion flicked across his face for a moment. If I would have blinked I could have missed it. It almost looked like...pity? Sympathy?

Guilt?

He quickly resumed his normal stoic expression. 

“You’ll get sick if you don’t take care of that,” he said, a sharpness in his tone. 

“It’s fine,” I said softly. 

He stepped forward and in a swift motion, grasped my wrist and pulled it toward him. I stumbled forward a little. 

He examined the burn even closer. Why was he doing this? Was he admiring his handiwork?

Or did he actually care?

Maybe he realized that if I died he wouldn’t get what he wanted out of me. New clothes or information. Or whatever else he could possibly be after. 

He poked at it and I winced. I hadn’t realized how bad it had gotten. I was so focused on...well, everything else.

“Sit,” he commanded. 

I was confused, but did so anyway.

“Do you have a medical kit lying around somewhere?” he said, gesturing around the room.

“Behind the desk,” I said, slowly scooting over to the pillow where the note was tucked away. He turned his back as he searched for the medical kit, and I reached for the note.

I slipped it in my waistband as he turned around. Hopefully he didn’t see that.

He walked back over and sat down next to me. 

He was sitting on the floor.

Of a hut.

In the middle of nowhere.

One of the most powerful men in the entire galaxy….

He grabbed my wrist again and set my arm on his thigh. I felt the lightning crack inside me again. He began to rummage around the old medical kit. We kept it back there in case of any emergencies. There hadn’t ever been one.

Until now, I suppose. 

My mind was racing. Did something happen overnight? The man who was in front of me was _not_ the same man that had been here yesterday. The contrast was disorienting. I couldn’t help myself from asking-

“Why do you even care?”

He looked right in my eyes. I felt sick.

“Well if an infection kills you,” he said, “then the time I’ve already spent indulging your little project has been wasted.”

_My little project_. He said it like I wasn’t the one doing him a service. Like he was somehow doing _me_ a favor here. I suppose, in some twisted way, not killing everyone _was_ doing us a favor. At least coming from him. 

I didn’t realize I had rolled my eyes until it was too late. I suppose running on little to no sleep would have some negative effect on my restraint. 

His fingers quickly grabbed my chin. He held me there and I saw the anger behind his eyes. He looked like he was going to yell. Or worse. 

But instead, he extinguished the flames in his eyes and let my face go. 

A pressure began building up in my chest, like the lightning was about to set something ablaze. 

“If you aren’t capable of taking care of yourself,” he began, refocusing his attention to the burn, “then I suppose someone else has to.” 

I wanted to fight back, to tell him that I was capable of taking care of myself. That's what I had been doing for the past month. While I was completely alone.

But did that even count as taking care of myself? I was just barely surviving.

Was _this_ somehow different though? How was this any more than just surviving? 

The buzzing feelings inside me were new. But I still couldn’t pinpoint what they were.

He began working, first taking an old vial of alcohol and a cloth and cleaning out the burn. It stung so badly my eyes began to water. But I tried to stay still and say nothing. 

His eyes flitted up to mine for a moment. I hadn’t realized I was staring. I probably should have been looking at what he was doing, but I couldn’t stop searching his face for answers. He gave the slightest hint of a smile. I couldn’t tell if it was at my pain, or if it was meant to make me feel better. 

I felt a heat rise to my cheeks. I couldn’t be more embarrassed. This man had literally killed people and I was letting myself _blush at him?_

His fingers gently worked against my skin. He was careful and slow. 

All of the sirens were on full blast in my head. None of this made sense. His cruelty was so much easier to cope with, in some ways. It was straightforward, understandable. It drew a clear line between us as people. 

But his kindness? It made me fear all of the hidden motives that could lie underneath. Made me lose sight of how evil he really was. Made me begin to see him as a person instead of the enemy. 

His kindness affected me and I hated myself for it. 

He took my hand and lifted it up. I began to jerk it away, but he let go.

I looked at him for an explanation, but he just began wrapping a bandage around my arm. He had lifted my arm so he could bandage it. 

What kind of explanation had I been expecting?

Everything seemed so methodical with him, void of any emotion other than the-more-than-occasional anger. Why was there a part of me that expected him to explain what he did in some sort of way that implied...tenderness? 

He finished wrapping my arm and began to put the supplies away. I sat there and just held my arm up. I was so consumed by my racing thoughts that I didn’t think to move, didn’t register that he was finished. He stood and walked to the desk to put the medical kit away, and the sound of his boots stomping finally snapped me out of my trance. I looked down at what he had done. It was neat and clean, the bandage wrapped evenly. 

I knew that I should say thank you. Or at least the thought popped into my head. But I remembered that the injury was in fact his fault. It was his temper, his inability to be stood up against. His infuriating superiority complex. 

But why would he bother destroying something only to put it back together again? Wasn’t that just a waste of time? 

And I knew how he felt about wastes of time…

He started rummaging through all of the papers, all of my designs. Some of them he simply tossed aside. I really hoped that those were just the incomplete, scribbled out rejects. He kept looking through them, pacing around the small room. I sat on the floor still, watching him. 

Eventually his footsteps stopped. He began examining one of the drawings closely. I couldn’t make out an emotion within his blank expression. He was good at concealing anything that wasn’t anger. 

He turned his attention to me and stared. I decided I should probably stand up; I hated how patronizing it felt for me to have to look all the way up at him (even though I still had to look up at him at my full height). He handed the drawing to me. 

My stomach dropped. It was one of the rejects. One of the first renderings I had drawn, had actually gotten down on paper and somewhat completed. 

I had considered it a warm up, something to finally get my creativity flowing. I let myself have fun with the design and took liberties to how I wanted to portray him. I had draw in facial features and everything. 

I had drawn him smiling. Just to see what it would look like.

He wasn’t smiling now. 

“Is this,” he said, taking the drawing from my hands, “how you see me?”

I tried to swallow, but my mouth had gone dry. How was I supposed to answer a question like this? 

“Uhm,” I began, hoping that some answer would just come out of my mouth. 

He kept his eyes on mine, his gaze burning through me. 

“It was one of my first drafts,” I tried to explain, “a reject. I didn’t mean to offend-”

“You’ll make this one,” he ordered. 

Did that mean…. _he liked it?_

I tried to peak at the drawing again without him noticing (I failed). Instead of saying anything, he handed the paper to me. 

It was a pretty simple concept, nothing too fancy. Something regal enough, but functional. Something that denoted high ranking, but not so noticeable as to call extreme attention. Something lightweight. 

Perhaps what shocked me the most was that I hadn’t included any sort of face covering in this drawing. No helmet or anything. 

Is this really what he wanted?

“I have other drawings…” I began as I bent over to pick up some more renderings. 

“No,” he said, touching my shoulder. It wasn’t harsh or a grab. Just to get my attention. 

It was almost impossible to believe that this was the same man who had burned me with a lightsaber. 

I slowly turned to face him. He kept his hand on my shoulder. I didn’t try to shrug out of it. 

“I want this one,” he said, his tone almost reassuring. 

“Okay,” I whispered.

We stood like that for a moment, facing each other, his hand on my shoulder. 

For just a second, we felt almost...connected. And for a fraction of a second, I liked it. 

I finally pulled away.

“I’ll need to go into the center of the village today,” I said, shoving the drawing into my bag. “They’ll hopefully have the fabrics I need.”

“ _We_ will go,” he said. 

I gave him a confused look. 

“It won’t be exciting-”

“What is it?” he said, his tone a mix of playful and harsh. “Can’t work under pressure?”

His eyes went dark. 

I couldn’t tell if this was banter. I didn’t know what he had to gain from being seen _shopping with me_ in the village. 

He grabbed his helmet and put it on. When he finished he walked to the door.

_Pressure_. Is that what this was? 

If he really wanted it to be that way, why would he have helped me earlier? 

Why the moments of gentleness? 

If this was his way of applying pressure, it was certainly unorthodox. And a bit unnerving. 

I suppose it could be a way of threatening me. Showing me his kindness and instilling in me how easily it could be taken away. But something inside me told me that theory wasn’t the truth. 

“I can handle it,” I said, and then more confidently, “I can handle pressure.”

He turned back to me.

“Good,” he crackled through the voice modulator.

Then he opened the door and we were off.

**Author's Note:**

> I know this first chapter doesn't really have the Kylo Content you're looking for but we PROMISE it's coming...we just have to set the stage first ;)


End file.
